As usual, "so many reactions", and this time I can't decide which one to ‼️ the most:
"No matter that I had screwed up and lost my place—the band kept playing, the song did not train wreck, the groove kept moving, the world did not end, I was not taken out back and shot, nobody yelled at me, or even paid me any mind at all. My mother didn’t show up to scowl and my father didn’t show up to tell me it wasn’t too late for medical school. I had no power to ruin anything or break anything or impinge on the overall happiness of all the blaring teenage egomaniac tenor players in that room. I was not responsible for everything around me or even anything around me. My imperfection, inexperience, awkwardness...pfft. Mere ghosts dispelled by sound and rhythm. Somewhere between Ebm7 and Dm7 my life shifted forever...A massive musical conspiracy to mask the glorious truth while narcissists of one degree or another were out there pandering to their fans."
Having all your conditioning and the tower of fear it gave rise to dissipate through that initial experience with just stepping up and having at it, and concurrently discovering the offramp from having to be the Diva;
Or that incredibly distressing incident you described at the end, to which you made the most sensible decision amidst a very difficult array of options. Why must it feel like such a craven moral failure to opt out of enacting the entirely likely case of seeing someone drowning so you jump in to save them and both of you drown? What does that accomplish?
Only a few years before that first jam session, I would never touch a piano in a public place, fearing I couldn't play a C-major scale without screwing up.
Just yesterday I was called in last-minute by a friend to fill in on keys for a local "duets" show she's putting together, all pop/rock covers from 70s-90s. I knew none of the players or many singers other than the leader and hadn't rehearsed--was working off lead sheets, ear, and memory of some tunes.
I kept down the nervous chatter and pointless self-deprecation because I knew I was the most skilled musician there, but I still found myself making a couple of unneeded disclaimers about being rusty. Soon I found myself effectively taking charge of some aspects of the rehearsal because I could hear mistakes clearly and offer us all some practice tips that others didn't know. My friend, the leader, thanked me profusely afterward--I'd helped lighten her load, for sure. I've been in her position so many times: exec producer, bandleader, singer, instrumentalist, music director, and rehearsal schedule manager all in one moment. It can be intense and exhausting, even with much more pro/skilled musicians than these. It's funny to realize that I now regularly do things I once assumed were entirely mysterious and beyond me...like playing a simple 3- or 4-chord rock song by ear even if it's the first time I'm hearing it.
As for the terrible incident with that young woman...Yeah, it took me a long time to stop feeling responsible for whatever fate she endured that night. It's among just a few standout times I remember making a choice that later felt cowardly. They sting.
We can't be competent and brave at every challenge, but I still aspire to it.
As usual, "so many reactions", and this time I can't decide which one to ‼️ the most:
"No matter that I had screwed up and lost my place—the band kept playing, the song did not train wreck, the groove kept moving, the world did not end, I was not taken out back and shot, nobody yelled at me, or even paid me any mind at all. My mother didn’t show up to scowl and my father didn’t show up to tell me it wasn’t too late for medical school. I had no power to ruin anything or break anything or impinge on the overall happiness of all the blaring teenage egomaniac tenor players in that room. I was not responsible for everything around me or even anything around me. My imperfection, inexperience, awkwardness...pfft. Mere ghosts dispelled by sound and rhythm. Somewhere between Ebm7 and Dm7 my life shifted forever...A massive musical conspiracy to mask the glorious truth while narcissists of one degree or another were out there pandering to their fans."
Having all your conditioning and the tower of fear it gave rise to dissipate through that initial experience with just stepping up and having at it, and concurrently discovering the offramp from having to be the Diva;
Or that incredibly distressing incident you described at the end, to which you made the most sensible decision amidst a very difficult array of options. Why must it feel like such a craven moral failure to opt out of enacting the entirely likely case of seeing someone drowning so you jump in to save them and both of you drown? What does that accomplish?
Yes, the conditioning, the tower of fear....
Only a few years before that first jam session, I would never touch a piano in a public place, fearing I couldn't play a C-major scale without screwing up.
Just yesterday I was called in last-minute by a friend to fill in on keys for a local "duets" show she's putting together, all pop/rock covers from 70s-90s. I knew none of the players or many singers other than the leader and hadn't rehearsed--was working off lead sheets, ear, and memory of some tunes.
I kept down the nervous chatter and pointless self-deprecation because I knew I was the most skilled musician there, but I still found myself making a couple of unneeded disclaimers about being rusty. Soon I found myself effectively taking charge of some aspects of the rehearsal because I could hear mistakes clearly and offer us all some practice tips that others didn't know. My friend, the leader, thanked me profusely afterward--I'd helped lighten her load, for sure. I've been in her position so many times: exec producer, bandleader, singer, instrumentalist, music director, and rehearsal schedule manager all in one moment. It can be intense and exhausting, even with much more pro/skilled musicians than these. It's funny to realize that I now regularly do things I once assumed were entirely mysterious and beyond me...like playing a simple 3- or 4-chord rock song by ear even if it's the first time I'm hearing it.
As for the terrible incident with that young woman...Yeah, it took me a long time to stop feeling responsible for whatever fate she endured that night. It's among just a few standout times I remember making a choice that later felt cowardly. They sting.
We can't be competent and brave at every challenge, but I still aspire to it.